


For the Soul

by Lindira



Series: Ma'nehn & Amatus [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindira/pseuds/Lindira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan spoils a homesick Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I'm transferring this from my phone due to internet issues, so I apologize in advance for any formatting weirdness.

Dorian was miserable; Aeric could tell merely by looking at him. It was partly his fault. Aeric had dragged Dorian and their companions from the Storm Coast one week to Emprise du Lion the next. Between the ocean rain and the freezing mountains, it wasn't any wonder that Dorian had apparently reached the end of his rope.

At camp one evening close to the end of their stay in the Dales, Aeric, Dorian, Cassandra, and Sera sat around the fire, eating dinner. Aeric found the cold stillness of the mountains beautiful and refreshing, but it was quite another thing for Dorian, it seemed. The mage pulled blankets around himself, sitting almost dangerously close to the fire. As he took a spoonful of turnip stew, he sighed heavily before setting the bowl down at his feet.

Aeric looked down at his own bowl. The stew was a little bland, he thought, but otherwise not as bad as usual.  

"Is there a problem, Tevinter?" Cassandra asked in a tone that said she already knew there was.  

"How you Southerners can eat such vile slop day in and day out is absolutely beyond me," Dorian said loudly. "If famine ever touched your precious turnip and parsnip crops, the country would fall into utter ruin, I swear."  

"If you're not gonna eat it, pass it over," Sera piped up. "Food is food. Stop your whining."  

Dorian rolled his eyes. "But that is exactly the problem. Food should be a matter of pride. It isn't just sustenance. It's culture and history and tradition."  

Sera snickered. "Do you hear yourself? We're in the middle of the friggin' mountains, and you're complaining that there isn't enough culture in your stew. Don't you hear how stupid that sounds?"  

"Forget it," Dorian said, getting to his feet. "I'm turning in early." Without another word, he went into the tent he shared with Aeric and drew the flaps shut. If there had been a door, Aeric was sure Dorian would have slammed it.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and went back to eating. Sera, for her part, glared at the tent, wrinkling her nose. "He is just about the nobliest noble who ever nobled. What put a bee in his britches?" She narrowed her eyes at Aeric. "You two on the outs or something?"  

"No," Aeric replied, finishing his dinner. "And leave him alone. He's already feeling miserable. Antagonizing him won't make things better."  

"Whatever you say, _Inquisitor_." With that, Sera dug into Dorian's stew with gusto.  

As soon as Aeric had washed his dishes, he got to his feet. "I'll be right back," he told Cassandra. "Just going for a walk."  

She nodded. "Do not wander far. There are still Red Templars in the area."  

Aeric headed down the path towards Sahrnia and searched the outskirts of the ruined village until he found the plants he was looking for. Perhaps the neat rows of bushes and herbs had once been a garden, now abandoned and neglected. He had seen the plants earlier on their way through town, but had not gathered them then because they were useless in herbalism. He clipped a few sprigs and returned to camp.  

When he reached the cooking fires, he ladled another bowl of stew, nodding a silent greeting to the scouts gathered there. "Do you mind if I borrow your salt?" he asked one of the cooks.  

The cook blinked at him then started when she realized who he was. "N-no, not at all, my Lord Inquisitor, ser!" she stammered.  

" _Ma serannas_ ," Aeric said absently, forgetting that she wouldn't understand. He added a pinch of the salt to the bowl. Then, plucking leaves from the sprigs he had collected earlier, he added the herbs to the stew as well.  

A minute later, he returned to his tent and entered. He found Dorian sitting on their bedrolls, covered with both their blankets and reading by lantern light. Aeric held the bowl out to him. "Try it now."  

Dorian set aside his book and eyed the bowl, raising a brow suspiciously. "Did Sera do something to it?"  

"No, I did," Aeric replied, pressing the bowl and a spoon into his hands.  

The mage gave a faint smile. "Mothering me now, are you?"  

Creators, but the man was frustrating sometimes. Dorian was trying to bait him into some playful banter, he knew. Which normally Aeric wouldn't have minded, but he had a hard time keeping his patience when he was worried. "Just eat it before it gets cold."  

Dorian gave the bowl a skeptical look before finally lifting a spoonful to his mouth. As he chewed, his eyes widened. "Sweet Maker, you've actually made the damn thing edible!" He took another bite. "What's in here?"  

Aeric smiled, relieved. Coming from Dorian, "edible" was high praise indeed. "Nothing complicated. Salt, thyme, oregano."  

"I thought I detected some flavor in there," Dorian said around another mouthful. He must have been hungry after all. "I didn't know you cooked."  

"This isn't cooking," Aeric corrected.  

"You evidently know something the actual cook doesn't know."  

Aeric sat down cross-legged beside Dorian on the bedrolls. "My father taught me and my sister when we were small." He opened his mouth to tell Dorian about how terrible Paikea was at it, how she took after their mother and tended to burn everything, just a little. But then he missed her powerfully much, a hurt he felt in the deepest part of his chest, and he could say nothing else.  

Something of what he felt must have shown on his face because Dorian slipped a hand into one of his. "Best stew I've had in weeks. Thank you, _amatus_ , for putting up with my snobbery."  

Aeric gave Dorian's hand a squeeze. "I like your snobbery."

Dorian smiled and kissed him. "You always did have excellent taste." He lifted up one end of the blankets. "Come warm me up?"  

"In a moment. Let me take off my armor." Aeric got to his feet, already pulling at the straps.  

"Oh," Dorian said, his smile widening, "I do like this part."  

Aeric made short work of his leather armor, leaving him in the soft woolen tunic and trousers he had worn underneath. Dorian lifted the end of the blankets again, and Aeric shimmied in beside him, slipping an arm around Dorian's shoulders and drawing him close.  

" _Fasta vass_ , you're like a furnace!" Dorian wrapped his arms around Aeric's waist. The elf shivered as the mage's cold hands wriggled underneath his tunic and found his bare stomach. "How did you get so warm?"  

Aeric shrugged. "How did you get so cold?"  

"You might have noticed we're surrounded by snow and freezing wind?"  

"But I thought you could make fire."  

"I can," Dorian replied, "but I thought we might not want our bedrolls to be burned to cinders."  

"That's considerate of you," Aeric said with a smile.  

"That's me," Dorian said, curling even closer. "I'm a giver."

The two of them sat in silence for a time, Aeric idly rubbing Dorian's arms to warm him. There was a contentment in quiet moments like this, one that Aeric cherished. However fearless or invincible he or Dorian appeared to be in public, however aloof or detached they acted when prying eyes were watching, when they were alone, they were allowed to be vulnerable, to be dependent on each other if need be. Aeric loved the intimacy in that.  

After sitting together in each other's arms for a while, Dorian sat up, a pinkish blush rising to his cheeks. "I'm feeling much better now. Thank you, _amatus_."  

"Anytime," Aeric replied. However, Dorian looked like he had more he wanted to say, his eyes darting away as he started his nightly grooming rituals. Now that Aeric thought about the incident earlier, the mage did seem more irritable than usual. While Dorian never shied away from declaring "The South" as cold and uncivilized, he wasn't usually so angry about it. " _Ma'nehn_?"  

"Hmm?"  

"Is something troubling you?" Aeric asked. He watched as Dorian heated a basin of water with a wave of his hand. "You seemed more upset about the food than you usually are."  

Dorian looked over his shoulder at him, his face wet from washing. "That obvious, was I? You're starting to know me a little too well."  

"I try."  

The mage turned back to the basin with a sigh. "If you must know… I miss home."  

Aeric frowned. "But we'll be heading back to Skyhold tomorrow."  

"No, not Skyhold," Dorian said, splashing soap away from his face. "Tevinter." He held out a hand, his eyes shut. "Could you hand me a towel?"  

Aeric rummaged in his pack and handed over a clean towel he found. "You want to go back to Tevinter?"  

"Not anytime soon, but maybe someday." Dorian patted at his face. "But that's not exactly what I mean. When I came south, I naturally expected it to be different from what I was accustomed back home. But my family had visited the Free Marches and Orlais before. I thought I knew what I was in for. I was wrong." He looked up from the towel and shrugged. "Everything here reminds me that it is done differently in Tevinter."  

"You're homesick?"  

"I suppose you could say that." Dorian shifted aside, letting Aeric have a turn at washing up. "There is not a single thing here that is familiar. It would merely be nice not to feel like such an outsider all the time." He held out the towel, offering it to Aeric.  

Aeric wiped at his face. "I know the feeling."  

Dorian blinked at him. "Do you?"  

"The lone Dalish elf amongst hundreds of humans?" Aeric said, giving a rueful smile. A pang of sadness pulled at his chest. He shoved it down. "I wouldn't know anything about being an outsider."  

Dorian chuckled. "I do keep forgetting people are almost as wary of you as they are of me. Even the other elves among us have no fondness for the Dalish."  

"To put it lightly. But at least the food is somewhat familiar to me." Aeric arranged his armor neatly beside their bedrolls, along with his bow and quiver. He crawled under the covers alongside Dorian.  

"Ah, that's all very romantic, isn't it? Two outsiders, finding each other as the world is ending, falling in…" Dorian trailed off, his cheeks turning red.

Aeric raised an eyebrow at him, suppressing a grin.   "Er," the mage floundered. "Falling into a… relationship together…"  

"Very eloquent," Aeric teased.  

Dorian huffed and turned over, facing away from him. "And now that's quite enough of that conversation."  

"Of course," Aeric said with a laugh. He leaned over to kiss Dorian on the cheek. "Love you."  

"Don't I know it." Dorian turned his head, catching Aeric's lips with his own. "Sleep well, _amatus_."  

Aeric settled in beside him, but lay awake thinking. Though it was true that Aeric sometimes felt out of place amongst the people of the Inquisition, he also knew Dorian had it far worse. Tevinter was almost universally hated across southern Thedas, and Dorian was unfairly judged because of it. A plan began to form, a little thing he hoped would make Dorian feel more at home.

When they arrived at Skyhold a few days later, Aeric sought out Josephine. He found her in her office, thankfully not entertaining any Orlesian dignitaries this time. She smiled pleasantly as he entered.  

"Inquisitor, welcome back," she greeted.  

"Thank you, Josephine," he replied. "Are you busy?"  

Josephine looked around at her papers and shook her head. "No, I think I have just about finished. What can I help you with?"

Aeric smiled. "This might sound strange, but how might I obtain a Tevinter cookbook?"  

***  

After a long day of studying, Dorian stretched in his chair, his stomach rumbling. He had skipped lunch, too absorbed in his book on spell purging and its uses, but now he regretted it thoroughly. He glanced down at the note he had tucked into his book, a note he had received an hour earlier.  

_Ma'nehn,_

_Please come to our quarters before dinner. We'll eat together._

_-Aeric_  

Though Dorian smiled at the note, he felt a little puzzled by it. He almost always waited for Aeric in the dining hall. Perhaps Aeric was worried he, too, would be preoccupied and forget to eat? Was it as simple as that? For once, Dorian hoped it wasn't a coy way of getting him into the bedroom for sex. He was too famished for that nonsense right now. Well, perhaps later.  

Dorian stood up and went down the stairs, mentally cursing the long walk to their quarters. Why couldn't Aeric just meet him at the hall as usual? And for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about food from Tevinter. When he opened the door from the Great Hall, he could have sworn he could smell spices in the air. The faint scent reminded him of home, of the warm blend of cumin and cinnamon always in the wind in Qarinus. Maker, he was so hungry, he could almost taste the _conditi agni._  

Yet as he climbed the steps to their bedroom, he was no longer convinced he was imagining things. The faint smell grew stronger the closer he got to their rooms. By the time he climbed the final set of stairs, he was positively salivating.  

As he entered the room, he found Aeric kneeling by the fireplace, taking a pot away from the heat of the flames. He smiled, noticing Dorian's arrival. "Ah, good! You're right on time."  

Dorian gazed around at the various pots and dishes surrounding the fireplace. He imagined his eyes had to look as big as saucers. "On time for what? What… what is all this?"  

"Dinner." Aeric gestured to a cushion on the floor. "Sit."  

Dorian sat, feeling stunned as he watched Aeric open a cast iron pot with roasted meat resting inside. "It is _conditi agni_!" Dorian gasped. He peered at the smaller pot Aeric had just taken from the fire. The elf was now fluffing something with a wooden paddle. Rice, smelling of cumin and saffron and a hint of jasmine. "Where did you get all of this?"  

"I made it."  

Dorian gaped. "You _made_ it?"  

Aeric nodded, smiling a crooked little smile that made his eyes shine. He took a plate and assembled the food on it carefully, rice at the bottom, a generous serving of meat on top of it, and a drizzling of spiced cream sauce to finish. Aside from lacking a garnish, it looked almost identical to the _conditi_ _agni_ Dorian might have eaten back home. "This must have taken forever to make," he said in awe as he took the plate and waited for Aeric to finish serving himself.

"I started the marinade for the lamb yesterday, but the cooking itself took the better part of two hours." He looked very pleased with himself. With good reason. "I've never made food like this before, and I wanted to get it right." Aeric chuckled, looking at Dorian. "Don't just stare at me. Go on and try it."  

Dorian sunk his fork into the food, the lamb separating with just a little bit of give, and scooped up the first forkful into his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring it, and for a brief moment, he could have sworn he was sitting on the balcony of his father's estate in Qarinus, the glittering sea spread across the horizon. There were subtle differences in flavor - variations in livestock and spices could do that, he knew - but the taste as a whole was so painstakingly accurate… "This is too much," he said, though it did not stop him from taking another bite. "I… The work you put into this. I can't repay it."  

Aeric sighed, though the smile did not fall from his face. "There's nothing to repay, _ma'nehn_. Only something to share. That this makes you happy is enough for me."  

"Happy?" Dorian said with a laugh. "I'm positively ecstatic. This is amazing, truly. You are absolutely spoiling me."  

Aeric's smile widened. "That was kind of the idea."  

The two of them spent the rest of the evening eating and laughing together, Dorian teaching Aeric how best to eat each item he created, and about the traditions his people had at mealtimes. Aeric listened with rapt attention, asking questions that Dorian was all too glad to answer. Despite how much they both ate - and Dorian had gone for far more helpings than he cared to admit - there was still plenty left over. They sent down the uneaten food with their dishes to the kitchen staff as a thank you for cleaning up after them. Once the servants had left, they sat together in the balcony doorway, feeling warm and full to bursting, looking up at the moon and the starlight. Aeric leaned back and rested his head on Dorian's shoulder.  

"Thank you for this," Dorian said softly, wrapping his arms around him. "You don't know what this means to me."  

"I know a little," Aeric replied with a straight face.  

"Now who's a show off?" Dorian said, chuckling. "If I wasn't so full, I'd ravage you right this second."  

Aeric turned his head and pressed a kiss against the mage's cheek. "Digesting now, ravaging later," he agreed.  

Silence fell between them again, silver moonlight glistening over the perpetually snowy mountains. Dorian expected to be cold - he was almost always a little cold in the south, it seemed - but the night was surprisingly comfortable, especially with Aeric warming his side.  

"You'll have to show me what the Dalish eat sometime," Dorian said, yawning. The fullness in his stomach was making him drowsy.  

"You won't try making it for me?" Aeric said in a mocking tone that told Dorian he expected no such thing.  

Dorian laughed. "Only if you want it mutilated. I can make something edible, but only just barely. You, _amatus_ , have a rather incredible talent."  

The tips of Aeric's ears were turning red, Dorian was pleased to notice. When he saw the elf was reluctant to respond, Dorian kissed him, saving Aeric the trouble. In this, Aeric had no trouble articulating himself, and it wasn't long before they were breathless and wanting.  

"What happened to digesting?" Aeric asked with a smirk.  

"Tired of digesting," Dorian replied, nipping a little at Aeric's lower lip. "If you're worried, we can always go slow."  

"Got it. Slow ravaging." Aeric caught his lips again.  

"You disapprove?"  

"Not at all," the elf said between kisses. "Slow is good. Slow lingers."  

Dorian grinned, the lethargy from earlier having long since fallen away. "Good. I can work with lingering." With that, he rose to his feet, pulling Aeric towards the bed.  

A long while later, Aeric lay in Dorian's arms, already asleep after their prolonged lovemaking. Dorian smiled, feeling the heavy draw of sleep himself. Still, though he rarely prayed - not at all, really - he found himself offering a silent thank you to the Maker. Then he drifted off into an easy slumber, the scent of spices in the air telling him he was home.


End file.
